Watching the affective fire on a winter’s eve,
Waiting as the loved one arrives,
Doors now fastened, safe from the cold.

To sit awhile, together.

So many seeds from all over.

Taken to the mill together,

But not all ground into flour.

We sit with our personalities

In this loaf of life

Nearby each other …

Waiting for someone to enjoy

The multi-grain community we have created

In God’s green earth.

Waking again I am handed an immensely full glass of water,

Surface tension being on the only reason it does not spill

Automatically.

 

Now, this day, like many before it,

I am forced to wash, dress, walk,

Do all tasks with this water glass in my hand.

 


Everyone seems to be watching,

Not my every move,

But whether I will spill it again … in my latest endeavor.

 

Please take this glass from me,

so I may tie my shoelaces

And proceed with the day in peace.

 

 

 

Safely tucked in my pocket

Warm and safe from sight

Lies the device.

I haven’t used it for a while now,

Even though the unit keeps shocking my heart

As if some action should take place.

But I would rather just listen.

So gradually the emails start rolling in

Text messages,

Even voice mails, if anyone knows what they are any more.

Filling the device to overflow.

Soon I won’t be able to hear any more gossip at all,

Unless I do something.

Perhaps I should turn it off,

Or even destroy it,

Tuning out the channel.

Forever.

 Sitting there waiting for us to look

And examine.

The mirror quietly reflects, or not,

On what it sees of us.

For God sees us clearly,

And always.

Yet, we don’t look at the dark and the shadows,

Removing the rust, or the dirt,

Which conceals ourselves.

And more of God.

Now untethered from earlier expectations,

Of love which is for “the one”

Or just for God,

Or siblings and family.

I AM free to love.

Drifting this morning,

In the mist of change,

I am released from the bonds of an earlier definition,

Where love was reserved for my man-made reasons.

Rather than God’s intention for me.

Listfully, I gaze into the eyes of all without agenda,

Only waiting for some other instructions,

Which I know God will provide.

Separated from the bonds of freewill,

This new limitless world sits quietly and always in the present.

Awaiting God’s gravity to lead me …

I can take the time today

Slow it down, back the truck up

Thirty years or so

To a world seen through my simple,

Seven year old eyes.

The buildings are bigger

I seem smaller but full of wonder

And see all with that first time feeling

When all is memorable,

If not remembered.

Like Harper Lee’s Scout all is clearer

Now I have stopped living in my adult future.

To glimpse the present,

As only a child can.

So here I AM,

Vulnerable and noticing like once before

Again a child

Reflecting and seeing the day anew.

The lilies remain separate, seemingly undisturbed

And unconnected.

In all but names,

Justice, Self-care and Fortitude,

Strange names for their green platforms,

Home to the activity of many creatures.

Below the surface,

The mother lies, Prudence.

Waiting for leaves to shake,

Sending nourishment below,

And receiving it above.

Each day.

A stone arrives from a mortal being,

Disturbing the calm scene,

Sending water and waves to affect all their parts.

But leaves move in unison,

As Prudence directs calmly from below.

Unfazed and happy to see another encounter,

Bringing them together.

We have no need to be shameful of our nakedness,

Only thoughts and deeds can do that.

For the body selected was to bring His likeness to us,

And thereby making clear who we are,

And why we are.

Our body is the temporary carrier,

Of a permanent situation.

Nevertheless beautiful in every

Curve, particular, smile,

Ready to act on behalf of others.

And nourish our soul,

As it moves closer towards Him.

I wanted to see the big picture.

A panorama, not just the illness,

But of life itself.

Played out from the field,

Where a child toiled in the hay with his father.

Waiting for the little call from his mother

“where’s little Mikey”.

Giving him a call for tea,

But only providing milk to sustain the boy’s constant hunger.

A guarantee of love painted white,

and well cleared plates.

Expecting the worse,

And seeing the turmoil,

The doctors were not optimistic and

Neither was I.

Just two words, caused the parallax error,

And combined with no explanation,

The panorama was complete in my mind,

And incorrect.

God gave him a second chance, and a story continues.